


Moments In Space

by gillywulf



Category: Ender's Game - All Media Types, Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Crossover, First Kiss, First Meetings, Friends to Lovers, Kidlock, M/M, space
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-24
Updated: 2014-09-24
Packaged: 2018-02-18 16:13:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,139
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2354636
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gillywulf/pseuds/gillywulf
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Space is a lonely place. Sherlock finds someone to share it with.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Moments In Space

**Author's Note:**

> I've tried to make this so that you don't really have to read Ender's Game to know what's happening, but if you have, things'll make a lot more sense. I've been working on this for months and I can't stand to look at it anymore. Take it. Please.

Sherlock was only 5 when the International Fleet knocked on his family's door. They said repeatedly how irregular it was for them to be there as the official testing age was 6. However, because his older brother Mycroft had been the historic age of 4 when he was invited into battle school, they thought they'd give him a shot. 

He passed with flying colors, performing so well that even the fleet was impressed. His parents didn't cry as they said their goodbyes. He remembered one of classmates talking about his brother leaving.

"It was the only time I've ever seen my father cry. I didn't like it" he'd said, looking haunted. Looking at them now, they looked as they always did, happy, not at all bothered that they'd lost both of their children to the military. Her smile was a little strained and his arm was a little tighter around her waist, but they showed no other outward signs of distress.

Sherlock wished they cried.

The International Fleet escorts brought him to the airport where they'd go to some place in America and then a shuttle to battle school from there. It was a private plane with only one other set of escorts and battle school student. 

He was taller than Sherlock with short blonde hair. He was dressed in modest clothes, cheap, unlike Sherlock, whose family spared no expense. The boy's gray shirt was stained with dirt and far too large for him. The escorts were seated on one side of the plane and Sherlock and the boy on the other. Sherlock took full advantage of having the window seat and avoided the blond's gaze as much as possible.

"I'm John. Who are you?" The other boy shattered the silence between them the moment that they were steady in the air. Sherlock heaved a sigh.

"Sherlock Holmes" he kept it short in hopes of stemming the conversation. It was not meant to be.

"Cool. I'm excited though. I'm the first person in my family to be invited to battle school. My dad was almost taken, but he was apparently just barely missed it" John continued. Sherlock rolled his eyes and turned to the other boy.

"It was a lie, sorry. He achieved an average score on the examination, as did your mother and brother. You yourself barely even scored high enough. Of course you also enjoy reading and watching the news far more than anyone else in your family. You even lose sleep over it. Your brother makes fun of you for it and resents you for being the smarter one. His scores were likely almost high enough but tested out for other reasons. You'll do well at battle school, no great leader, but certainly enough to get you into combat school" Sherlock turned back to the window and waited for the indignant huff of anger, but it never came.

"That was..." Sherlock closed his eyes. Just because it happened often, didn't mean that he was any more immune to it than the first time it had happened.

"Amazing" John breathed. Sherlock whipped his head around in surprise.

"That was absolutely amazing. Can you do that with anybody?" He asked. Sherlock found himself nodding.

"Yes, but that's not what most people say"

"What do most people say?"

"'Piss off'"

The two boys grinned at each other. The rest of the flight was filled with Sherlock's explanations, speculation about the other students, and coursework.

 

\---

 

John sat up in bed, breathing hard. Since getting to battle school a week ago he hadn't enjoyed a full nights sleep. Nightmares plagued him every time he closed his eyes. However the empty bed was also a bit of a shock. Because of his family's lack of funds, he and Harry had often shared a bed. 

Now, for the first time in his life, he had his own bed and he couldn't even enjoy it properly. He laid back and covered his eyes, attempting to even out his breath. Dreams about exploding in space without a spacesuit became too common. Shifting from the bed next to his - Sherlock's - caught his attention.

"John, come here" Sherlock demanded. A beat.

"What?" John was confused. What exactly was he being told to do?

"Get in my bed. You've not slept well since you got here, partially due to the fact that you are used to sharing a bed, so come here" Sherlock whispered in a rush. Suddenly glad for the darkness, John flushed.

"No, I can't, they told us to stay in our own beds" he muttered. He was pretty sure Sherlock rolled his eyes, but his eyes couldn't pick up the movement.

"Well you won't be able to abide by any rules if you're falling asleep in your breakfast every morning. Come here" John knew he was right, he always was. He got out of his own bed and into Sherlock's as quietly as he could. Immediately the warmth of his friend seeped through him and he felt himself relax. The movement of Sherlock curling up against his back made him smile. His own bed would remain untouched for the rest of their time spent in the same launch group.

 

\---

 

Sherlock was quiet at lunch and John knew it. Normally, he'd be spouting off the cuff about why the strategy they'd learned in their last lesson was inefficient and a better alternative to it. Instead, he sat there, quietly picking at the pudding on his lunch tray. 

While John wasn't positive about the reason why, he was fairly sure it had happened when Sherlock had gone to the bathroom just after the lesson. Some other launchies must have already been in there and said or did something because he'd come out looking like he did now. John steeled his nerves and whispered to his friend.

"Names. Now" he saw Sherlock frown out of the corner of his eye.

"John no one-" John whirled around to force eye contact.

"That's kuso and you know it. Tell me" he demanded. Sherlock held his gaze, debating the merits of saying something or not while chewing his lip.

"Anderson, Chaib, Noburu" he answered quietly. John nodded and stood up from their table. Sherlock's gaze locked onto him as he walked. He plopped himself down a few tables over where those Sherlock had named and two others sat. He smiled at them as menacingly as possible.

"Hey guys. I'm just wondering if you could help me understand our history lesson a bit more. In the battle of Guandu, why exactly is it that Yuan Shao lost?" He asked rhetorically. The others at the table glanced at each other, uncertain. They all understood that his excuse to come to them was a complete lie, but the approach was unexpected. Nawfal Chaib eventually spoke up.

"He left his supply lines vulnerable" he said. "Cao Cao attacked those and there was nothing Shao could do" John nodded sagely.

"So the lack of protection for his assets and his mistreatment of his men led to a devastating loss. Okay, I see. So as future military leaders yourselves, how should you deal with Sherlock?" He asked. John wanted to shame them, wanted them to know how stupid they were being. In the two months he'd known Sherlock, they'd become best friends. He wouldn't stand for anyone refusing to see the genius he knew so well. But of course, Phillip Anderson scoffed loudly.

"Lose him, he a fart eater" he laughed, looking to Noburu and Chaib for help. They remained stoic and watched John. They seemed to have caught on to John's train of thought. Disbelieving, John's furious smile returned. He kept his voice dangerously low, something his father had always done when reprimanding Harry.

"No. He is smarter than all of you and you all know it. He is an asset that you protect, just like Yuan Shao's supply lines" he paused and glared hard at each of the other boys. They were looking suitably chastised now.

"If I hear again that you've been needlessly tormenting the only one of us who might ever be an admiral then next time this conversation will be far less civil. Understood?"

"Yes sir" the three chorused. John blinked briefly at the use of 'sir' but nodded and returned to the table he shared with Sherlock. It was obvious that he had been watching the entire exchange.

"They're all going to call you sir now, maybe even captain" he said with a grateful smile. John shrugged.

"Maybe then they'll stop being such buggers" Sherlock laughed. They both started eating again in companionable silence. A few minutes in, Sherlock scooted down the bench to press his side against John's.

 

\---

 

Sherlock's body hurt all over after their recent training hour. He knew it was important to learn, but that didn't change the fact that he was only six years old and expected to learn hour to throw an adult over his shoulder. Thankfully, there wasn't as much pain as there had been for the first few months. John, while just as exhausted, was still taller than Sherlock. So with his longer stride, he made his way to the mess hall, leaving Sherlock to walk alone with the promise of a saved seat. 

Sherlock didn't mind though. He was used to being alone and he rather enjoyed it even. He closed his eyes as he walked, wanting to feel the brief solitude even more. He only made it a few steps before he crashed into a body. He jerked back and stuck his arms out to steady himself. He blinked in shock at the boy standing in front of him. 

He recognized the boy's face from pictures his mother had littered around the house of a young toddler named Mycroft. The similarities were undeniable in the curved nose, imperious eyes, and their mother's chin. He looked more like their father. Now, that child had grown into a preteen, the beginnings of puberty starting to show.

"Pardon me, please take more caution next time you choose to walk with your eyes closed" A thought hit Sherlock like a train. His brother had no idea he even existed. After he was taken to battle school, it was another three years before he was even born and he knew for a fact that no one got any letters.

"Sorry, next time I see our mum I'll ask her for another lesson on manners" he retorted. Mycroft visibly started.

"Excuse me? I don't believe I have ever seen you in my life" he argued, clearly indignant. Sherlock rolled his eyes.

"Well I've seen enough of you. Mum has pictures of you all over the house. Drives me mad" he muttered.

"I'm Sherlock. I was born seven years after you so I don't expect you to care about me" Mycroft was frozen in surprise.

"Is there something you want of me?" He asked, causing Sherlock to scowl. Because of course, that's the only thing siblings get from one another.

"No, never have. Only that you know I exist. Have a nice day commander" he said with a mocking salute. He left without waiting for a reply. Frustration clouded his gaze as he walked. He sat down next to John at the mess in a fowl mood. As always, John noticed.

"What's wrong?" He asked, mentally preparing for a speech about how stupid people were. But he didn't get it. Instead, Sherlock shook his head and said nothing was wrong.

 

\---

 

"Maybe if a second unit were hidden behind the first. Although it might be too obvious"

"Mm. It would definitely be the first thing I'd look for" Sherlock and John conversed lightly on their way back to the launchie barracks. Chaib and Canadian Harvey interjected every now and again while try walked in front of them. Sherlock tended not to listen too hard, but John, now that everyone had started calling him Captain, felt compelled to hold conversations with as many people as possible. 

The past year and a half at battle school had been an adjustment for both of them. Despite Anderson's constant need for confrontation, they'd managed to muddle through. They walked into their barracks discussing tactics, only noticing the slips on paper on a few beds when Noburu pointed out the slip on his own bed.

"Masaru Noburu. Assigned Griffon Army. Commander Broos Mesman. Effective immediately. Code Blue Red Red. No possessions transferred" he read out loud. The small group was still. They'd been expecting it for some time, but it was real now, their launch group would be forever broken up into armies, where soldiers were made. The other four dashed to their beds, searching for slips. The rest of the launch group entered not long after and followed suit. 

Sherlock had been assigned to report to Sebastian Wilkes of Phoenix Army. John would report to James Sholto of Hound Army. A quick glance at Sherlock told John that his friend was already beginning to panic. He gently took Sherlock by the shoulders and forced him to make eye contact.

"Listen, it's all going to be fine, yeah? We can eat every meal together, we can sit next to each other in classes, and we can spend our free time together. And maybe in a few weeks, when our commanders know us better, we can request to be traded to one or the other's army. No big, it's fine" he said reassuringly. Sherlock forced himself to accept it temporarily. The launch group spent a few minutes saying brief goodbyes to each other and left the barracks together. 

Most followed the flashing lights in the corridor down the one direction, but Sherlock, John, and two others continued down the other until the lights split again. A few paces later, John's colors turned down a looping corridor, signaling the end of their perfectly built partnership. They stood together for a moment, unsure of what to do. John threw his arms around Sherlock in the tightest hug he could manage. Sherlock returned it, his fingers digging into John's shoulders.

"Remember what I said, I'll see you tomorrow and every day after" John whispered. They separated unwillingly. Sherlock managed a weak grin.

"As you say, Captain" he replied. This startled a laugh out of John. He'd become Captain to protect Sherlock and in that regard, nothing would change. A little time apart would be no obstacle at all. After a deep breath, they turned in the direction of their separate army barracks and walked.

 

\---

 

Sherlock sat down at the table with a loud sigh. John looked up, ready to offer a smile that quickly fell away after he noticed the massive dark bruise forming over Sherlock's left eye.

"Sherlock what-" he began, alarmed. Sherlock hastily interrupted him.

"It's nothing, really" he said with a nonchalant wave of his hand. John scowled at him and crossed his arms over his chest.

"No, it's not 'nothing'. While revealing your army's tactics to the enemy while I'm the midst of battle isn't very good, no one has the right to do this! And it's not even the first time!" He argued. Sherlock had explained about the battle where he'd given Tide their strategy after he'd been shot in order to make a point to Wilkes.

"He wasn't going to learn otherwise and you know it" Sherlock shot back.

"But that doesn't give him the right to hit you" John countered. Sherlock shoved a spoonful of pudding into his mouth and refused to say anything more. Sensing the conversation was over, John huffed and went back to eating.

"Make sure you put some ice on that"

"Yes Captain"

 

\---

 

"Ho Holmes! It looks like we're both winners today. Go ahead, ask me why" Commander Sebastian Wilkes loved interrupting Sherlock whenever he could. The fact that the younger boy was cleaning a weapon was not enough of an incentive to wait until later. With a roll of his eyes in exasperation, Sherlock complied.

"It's because you're gone" Wilkes nearly sang. Sherlock's gaze shot open in shock. He nearly couldn't contain his joy.

"I traded you to Badger Army for someone ten times better than you. Oddly enough, Lestrade actually asked for you. Now get out" a slow grin spread across Sherlock's face as he made his way out into the corridor and followed the flashing lights.

 

\---

 

For the next few months, Badger Army was nearly undefeatable. Greg Lestrade had seen potential in Sherlock that Wilkes had refused to and took full advantage of it, consulting him on strategies as often as possible. Now, John only ever saw him unhappy when Lestrade took someone else's advise over his. When that happened, he liked to go on long rants as they played games against each other on their desks.

"He knows I'm the smartest member of the army, that's why he traded for me. Asking for other people's opinions is stupid" he huffed, earning another point on the game. John scowled at the screen, attempting to focus.

"Obviously he knows it, but it isn't stupid. A good leader listens to everybody under him. If you consult only one person, they may as well be in control" he replied. "No one respects a leader who only does what they want" he grunted as he moved his desk as if he were actually piloting a fighter. His efforts were in vain as he crashed into an asteroid. He groaned and let the desk flop onto his lap. When he looked over to the victor, he found Sherlock already looking at him.

"You'd make a good commander" he said sincerely. John flushed and muttered a thank you. He knew how rare Sherlock's compliments were.

 

\---

 

Sherlock nearly knocked John off of the bench in his attempt to sit down. John bobbled the lunch tray he'd been about to put down before glaring at Sherlock. His reprimand died on his tongue as he saw the utter happiness on his friends face.

"Good news! I've talked Lestrade into trading for you!" He said, his grin getting impossibly wider. John only managed to blink in surprise. In truth, he'd been waiting for this for some time. Sherlock often lamented about the fact that he was lonely because as usual, not many people in his army liked him. 

John commiserated as he didn't seem to connect with anyone else like he had with Sherlock. And he was positive that Sherlock had taken note of the now permanent bags under his eyes. Even after a year of sleeping in different barracks, sleep refused to come easy for him. Sherlock mistook John's shocked silence as disapproval and the grin slid off his face almost comically.

"I mean- only if you want, I can have him cancel it- I should have asked first-" The words tumbled from Sherlock's lips faster than John could correct them.

"No, no, no, no that's not it at all!" He interjected, waving his hands a bit for emphasis.

"You just caught me by surprise is all. I'd love to join your lovely Badger Army" he said with a smile. Sherlock's grin returned and John couldn't help but mirror it. In a flash Sherlock was excited again and going on about how his plans and John was content to let his friend's voice ghost over him. He barely listened as he chewed on his bread roll.

 

\---

 

Lestrade called after Sherlock and John one day after leaving practice in the battle room.

"Cap! Holmes! I need to speak to you both" With a weary look - as he always seemed bone tired - he led them to his private quarters and set down his helmet before tracing them again.

"So I'm losing my B toon leader to graduation in a week. I want you two to fill in" The pair blinked at each other in surprise.

"I know it sounds weird but I promise there's a reason for it. Officially, Sherlock will be the toon leader, but I know that you tend to have problems with people so Cap is going to be your buffer, as everyone seems to love you" he explained, beginning to take off his flash suit.

"But why not just give it to John?" Sherlock questioned. Lestrade ran a hand through his prematurely gray hair. Battle school took a larger toll on some than it did others.

"Because - no offense, mate - but he's just not smart enough. You have this crazy brilliance that I need to use, but can only be harnessed by him. And Cap, you've got a way with people, you really do, but I've seen some of the strategies you've drawn up and they're a bit lackluster, so here I am combining the head and the heart" he sighed. "So, understood?" He asked. It's be hell to promote anyone else.

"Yes sir" the pair answered together. Lestrade nodded and let them go. Sherlock shook his head in the corridor.

"Why does everyone underestimate you? You're far smarter than the rest of these fart eaters" he grumbled.

"Maybe it's because I'm with you all the time and you've got the most packed head of anyone here" John answered with a shrug. "Besides, it gives me an advantage if my enemies think I'm dumb" If everyone you fought thought you were an easy victory, they'd be caught wrong footed when you proved to be otherwise. Sherlock frowned anyway.

"I still don't like it" he said through clenched teeth. Even after four years of knowing each other, John still didn't feel like he deserved the friendship of the most incredible person he'd ever met. The casual mentions of how much John meant to Sherlock still made him feel warm.

 

\---

 

The battle room was in chaos and it was fairly obvious that Badger was on the losing end. The vast majority if the army was disabled. Most of B toon had managed to remain unfrozen, though a leg or arm had been hit here an there. The toon took cover behind a star as Sherlock and John tried to strategize as quickly as possible.

"We need a man up in the far corner there-"

"Yes but Lestrade ordered us here-"

"-and in any other situation I'd be more inclined to listen-"

"-you're right, but we should have one hang back by our gate and we're already spread thin-"

"-so we'll do half and half, I'll lead half the toon up and spread out to avoid immediate detection an you hang back and kill anyone who gets close to the gate" Sherlock agreed to John's plan and they shouted quick orders to the soldiers under them. John pushed upwards from the star with four other soldiers and rebounded off the wall towards the enemy's flank. 

Sherlock took the other two and positioned themselves out of sight within shooting distance of their own gate. Within minutes it was clear that Sherlock had chosen a good spot as a mass of Tide Army soldiers attempted to break trough and surprise Badger. However, between John and Sherlock, they'd become sitting ducks and were easily eliminated. John's small group did the honors and passed through the enemy gate, securing a Badger victory.

 

\---

 

Sherlock and John lay sprawled over Sherlock's bed. John was reading a book as Sherlock finished up some coursework due soon. Being toon leaders was taxing and they enjoyed the little downtime that they got. So naturally, Sherlock was a tiny bit annoyed at the peace being broken.

"Ho Holmes" a voice called out timidly. Sherlock glanced up to see a soldier from his toon.

"Ho Harris" Harris was older and dangerously gangly. Puberty was taking a quicker and stronger hold of him than most of the other's. It was obvious that he'd ice out soon, so everyone tried to be nicer than they might have otherwise. He was exhibiting his nervous habit of wringing his hands as he started speaking.

"I just wanted to ask you if you could explain the last drill we ran again, I'm not sure I fully understood it" he asked quietly. Sherlock tended not to have patience for this sort of thing, but between John probably not forgiving him and Harris's icing out, he acquiesced. Harris's excitement kept Sherlock's attention from John's proud grin.

 

\---

 

John was playing a game on his desk when Major Anderson entered the barracks. The entire room went quiet. It was rare for any of the teachers to enter barracks unless they were a launch mom.

"John Watson?" He called out. John stood up and raised his hand nervously.

"Please come with me" Major Anderson said calmly. With a glance back at Sherlock - who looked slightly panicked - he followed the Major. He was taken to a room that looked suspiciously like Lestrade's private quarters and he began to wonder if maybe he was being given his own army. The timing was right for it - he would be eleven in a week - and he'd completed the previous step of being a toon leader, but he'd never thought of it for himself. 

He'd always believed that Sherlock would be a commander long before he'd be given a shot. Next thing he knew, he was being fitted for new uniforms and a new flash suit. As the tailors worked, Major Anderson briefed him about his new army.

"Congratulations Commander Watson, you are now in charge of Lion Army. They are currently in their barracks and the color code is Yellow Grey Yellow. You will address them in fifteen minutes" Here, he handed John his hook and explained it's uses and limitations to him, not that John didn't already know most of them. Then came the official welcome speech that sounded overly rehearsed and insincere. 

Major Anderson finished speaking and left, leaving John alone in his new room. He paced the room for a few minutes, noting that soon he'd have to address his new army. He could feel himself beginning to panic so he sat down on his bed. He closed his eyes and took a few deep breaths. He could do this. Lestrade believed in him, Colonel Graff apparently believed in him, and Sherlock had believed in him from day one. He could do this. 

With one last deep breath, he left the room. When he reached the open door, he could see the members of his new army milling around, going about their daily business. There were more girls than most armies, but that would be good. As most boys stupidly underestimated girls, he could use them to his advantage. One of the soldiers closest do the door suddenly noticed him.

"Officer on deck!" He called out. John suddenly commanded the attention of the entire barrack. He could feel the apprehension and fear coursing through him, but he knew that it was okay, as long as he didn't let it get the best of him. So he drew in a breath and began his speech.

 

\---

 

"I hate this" Sherlock muttered late into the night.

"The only real enemies we have are the Buggers, not each other" He curled himself tighter into John's back.

"Now, if I show anything but hatred for you my soldiers will latch on to it and refuse to obey me because I'm a 'bugger-lover'" in the few weeks they'd both been commanders, John seemed to be having an easier go of it than Sherlock. 

He found it hard to endear himself to people that would be of no real consequence to him in a year and a half. When they were toon leaders, they'd both knew the next step was coming and John tried coaching his friend to relate to people more. Needless to say it failed. Sherlock's army was only loyal to the strategies, not the boy. John let out a sigh and turned to face Sherlock in the dark.

"Look, if we want to end up at the same school together, we have to both do extremely well. Although I've never heard of commanders not being sent to Tactical School, we don't want to risk it. So in the meantime, pretend like every soldier in your army is me. Maybe then you can relate better" he suggested. Sherlock nodded and wrapped his arms around John's back and pressed his face into John's sternum.

 

\---

 

Sherlock, John, and Lestrade sat facing the score boards in the nearly empty commanders' mess. Everyone else had finished eating and left for one reason or another. The three remained behind, just watching the board as Manticore and Griffin fought.

"We'll be graduating within the next two weeks" Sherlock said, shattering the hard earned silence. Lestrade nodded slowly, as if in a trance.

"We're all going to tactical school, eh?" He asked.

"Probably"John answered with a shrug. "I mean, there's no way to know for sure until we get our assignments, but I'd say we were shoe ins. Commanders get in 99% of the time don't they?" No one answered him. On the board, the battle was over. Griffin had dominated, only twenty disabled and nineteen damaged but active.

 

\---

 

John was finishing coursework on his desk when the order came through.

John Watson. Tactical School. Debriefing in Mess.

The words marched repeatedly around the desk, but John couldn't find it in him to actually get up for a few moments. He knew that right now, nearly everyone from his launch and Lestrade's would be seeing a similar message. He knew that current launchies might be just noticing the slips of paper on their beds. He knew that Major Anderson was informing other soldiers of their promotions to commander. Just as he knew that as a thirteen year old, he was no child.

 

\---

 

In the mess hall, they'd been asked whether they wanted to visit their families on Earth. The vast majority, including John and Lestrade had said yes. When they were given five minutes to mill around and say goodbye to people, the pair descended on Sherlock and forced him to agree as well. Now, they were prepared to disembark from the shuttle. An IF car would drop them at their houses. 

The trio sat quietly in the car as it drove along. Whether or not they'd admit it, they were all nervous. Sherlock began to fidget his fingers. The slight action made John even more nervous, so he snapped up Sherlock's hand and didn't release it for the entire ride. Sherlock seemed to still after that. Lestrade was first. The neighborhood seemed familiar to John and he knew that it wasn't very far from his own. He made a mental note of the address as the car slowed to a stop.

"Well. See you lads in a week. Sherlock, Cap" He gave them each a nod and a sigh and slipped out the door. Out the window, Sherlock and John could see his parents and a younger sister. Their eyes had immediately gone to his gray hair and Sherlock chuckled.

"Of all the stories you hear of battle school, premature graying isn't usually one of them" The car set off again. As John had predicted, not five minutes later, he was on his childhood street. Sherlock's hand clenched in his as they drew closer.

"Hey, listen to me. You know how to find me, eh? You've got my address, you can find me on the nets, and you could probably call me no problem. If you need me, come to me, don't let problems grow" John said sternly. Sherlock nodded.

"Yes, Captain" In that moment, as the car stopped in front of his house, he realized just how beautiful Sherlock's eyes were.

 

\---

 

The Watsons were just about to sit down to dinner when frantic knocking bulldozed the peace. John had been all but waiting for it to happen, so he placated his family and jogged to the door. He pulled it open and found Sherlock drenched and panting. Both were unsurprising as it was raining and Sherlock had likely ran for at least part of the journey. However, the panic flaring up in his eyes was unexpected.

"I shouldn't have come home, it was a horrible idea, oh god. You're generally right about things like this so I thought it would be a good idea but I just can't be without you-" The words like a waterfall from Sherlock's lips. John pressed hands to Sherlock's shoulders and forced his attention.

"Okay, stop for a moment, deep breaths, close your eyes and sit down if you have to and then I need a full story, eh?" He guided Sherlock to a nearby wooden chair and helped him to slowly sit in it.

"Okay now deep, slow breaths, and start listing the elements and their atomic numbers in your head" John instructed. A few minutes passed as Sherlock obeyed and managed to calm down. John rubbed slow calming circles over Sherlock's back, waiting for the right moment to speak.

"So what's this all about, then?" He asked, afraid to shatter the brief calm. The knowledge that his family was just in the other room, undoubtedly trying to listen in certainly provided more motivation to keep quiet.

"I just- I panicked. Too far from you for too long. And it's not as if my family really care. Mycroft is home now, he has an IF job earth side. Mummy's gone spare trying to please him as much as possible" Sherlock explained rapidly. John let the quiet settle over them like a comforting blanket. He rested his head on Sherlock's shoulder as he rubbed his back a few more. 

He murmured quiet platitudes and he could feel his best friend unwinding. John's father chose this moment to poke his head into the room.

"Hello there, I was just wondering if you were staying for dinner?"

 

\---

 

The warm sun felt good against Sherlock's skin. It had been years since the three of them had felt so lazy and content. Laying in Lestrade's small back garden, the trio talked about how their families had changed.

"My da seems more involved in his work than he ever was before" Lestrade observed.

"It's like he's preparing for something- oh! Did I tell you about what he said?" He asked launching himself so that he was sitting up and able to see them better. When they shook their heads he plowed on.

"Well, Dink Meeker- you know him, Condor toon leader- he was promoted to commander just after we left, right? Turned it down. Twice. Refused to go meet his armies, just stayed in his room, I think they're gonna just throw him back into an army if he doesn't leave his room by today or something" Lestrade explained. John sat up now, a cross look on his face.

"But no ones ever done that, why would he do that?" He asked, frowning hard.

"Dink was the single most anarchist person in battle school, he understands the true nature of the school. That anyone thinks this outside of his norm, well then" Sherlock explained with a casual shrug of his shoulders, not even bothering sit up or open his eyes. John looked skeptical. He opened his mouth to argue, but Lestrade beat him to it.

"What, and you know the true nature of the school?" He scoffed. Sherlock opened one eye and bore it into Lestrade.

"Of course. The only real enemies there are the ones we pick and choose ourselves and the teachers. They choose the armies and who goes where. And they're obviously looking for a bunch of specific traits in one person. A commander the likes of which hasn't been seen in battle school since it's inception fifty years ago" he went on. He closed his eye again and with a huff tried to regain the peace he'd had before. John blinked, barely managing to decipher his friend's quick words. After a brief consideration, he posed his question.

"What do they need a person like that for?" He asked. The question hung in the air for a moment. John could see Lestrade looking frustrated and perplexed, Sherlock wore a tiny grin, managing to look almost proud of John.

"And that's the question isn't it?"

 

\---

 

After four months on a destroyer, their arrival to tactical school was a relief. For John and Sherlock, the room situation tarnished that relief. They'd become dependent on each other to sleep well. This if course, led to the pair standing before the colonel's desk, requesting to share a room. Colonel Jones' shrewd dark eyes washed over them as they stood at rigid attention.

"And you're telling me that battle school allowed this?" She asked skeptically.

"They didn't care much about where anyone was sleeping as long as they weren't in separate armies, ma'am" Sherlock answered, keeping his voice level. Jones leaned back in her chair and continued frowning at them. The way her long dark curly hair was pulled into a tight ponytail away from her face made her look sharper.

"Well I can't say I've ever had a request like this before, so I've no frame of reference, exactly" she paused, gaze intent again.

"No funny business, right?" It was less of a question and more of an order.

"No ma'am" John assured. Jones huffed and slipped her fingers over her desk, pulling up some forms.

"Holmes, I'm reassigning you to Watson's room. If I hear about anything untoward, I will eliminate the situation, clear?" She half threatened.

"Yes ma'am" they chorused and left the room. John managed a deep breath.

"That was a lot easier than I expected" he chirped. They headed to the mess hall for lunch. Everyone else would already be there.

"She didn't believe us when we said there'd be no 'funny business'. She thinks that we're together. Romantically. She's got a soft spot for minorities, as she herself is one" said Sherlock casually. They'd arrived back at Sherlock's original room and John blinked in surprise and he picked up Sherlock's uniforms.

"Really? She wouldn't have cared?" While nearly two hundred years had passed since being anything but heterosexual was grounds for persecution, no society was perfect. One could still hear stories of couples being shouted at or mistreated. Only now, strangers often interjected to tell them off. Sherlock shook his head in answer.

"She's likely even walked in on students before and not been particularly bothered" They began the trek to their now shared room. It wasn't the first time John thought about the two of them as a couple. Being thirteen, hormones were beginning to kick in and he'd noticed how attractive and compatible Sherlock was. He did wonder on occasion if Sherlock had ever had any similar thoughts. As they walked, he eyed his friend out of the corner of his eye.

"Whatever it is you're thinking, say it" Sherlock commanded. Caught off guard, John could barely form a sentence right away.

"Does it bother you?"

"What? The fact that you don't always say what you're thinking even though I know what it is? Yes" he replied crossly. John rolled his eyes.

"No, that she thinks we're together" he asked, his voice dropping quickly in volume. Sherlock shrugged.

"No. It's not anything to be ashamed of. And if anyone thinks I could possibly land you-" he shrugged again. "-well then, that just makes me look impressive" He kept his gaze determinedly forward. John couldn't believe what he heard.

"You think you'd be lucky to have me? No way! Have you seen yourself?! You're incredibly good looking - and you'll only get more so - and brilliant beyond anyone else and you're overall fantastic! I'm just me! Nothing special here" he argued. They'd stopped in the corridor now, standing opposite each other in shock. Sherlock's eyebrows knit together.

"You really believe all that about me?" He asked incredulously. His voice was so quiet that John, a few feet away could barely hear him. He nodded fiercely, confused.

"Of course" they stared at each other for a few lingering moments before tearing their eyes away and continuing to walk. If John heard Sherlock's whispered thank you, he didn't react. He understood that sometimes it needed only to be said.

 

\---

 

John scowled at the assignment before him. Sherlock had already finished it, but John had refused help, hoping it would sink in more the longer he looked at it. Naturally, as rocket science wont to do, that was not the case. He glanced up at Sherlock who sat reading calmly in the only chair in the room. John was astounded by the ease of grace his friend had begun to exhibit. 

Puberty was hitting hard and despite Sherlock's quick growth and gangliness, every movement he made was smooth and fluid. John was jealous. Puberty had made him taller, yes, but stocky and solid. Sherlock looked like he could easily become a model rather than a military commander if he chose to. As if he could hear John's thoughts, Sherlock's steel blue eyes flicked up from the pages and locked on to John's. A smug look settled across his features.

"Need help yet?" He asked, obviously expecting a denial. His eyes sparkled with mischief and a smirk on his lips and John found that his pride didn't matter much.

"Fine. Explain this gravitational pull lark please. You are so good at this and it makes no sense to me" he groaned. Sherlock's face went slack with surprise. John loved that Sherlock always seemed to press a reset button in his head after he was complimented. He eventually shook it off and sat next to John on the bed.

"Yes, Captain" he said, and went into full lecture mode.

 

\---

 

The library was quiet for the time of day. Normally, the fourteen and fifteen year old would have their studies constantly interrupted by Lestrade or someone else from their initial launch group. Sherlock was grateful for the respite. The conversation he needed to have with John had to be private, but their shared room eliminated an escape route that he wanted him to have. Carefully, he broke the silence.

"Have you heard about Noburu and Chaib?" He asked as casually as he could, keeping his eyes on the material in front of him. John glanced up, then back down.

"That they're together? Yes. Although it's not all that much of a surprise, is it? They're always together" he replied just as casually. Sherlock felt his heart beat harder in his chest.

"How do you feel about it?" John clearly realized there was an ulterior motive, but relented anyway.

"It's fine. Totally fine. Harry came out to me you know. Hadn't even told our parents" he admitted. Sherlock nodded understandingly and returned his unmoving eyes to the pages in front of him. His question sat on the tip of his tongue, but he found his mouth refused to ask it. It would be a pivotal question that would redefine their relationship or ruin it. 

However feeling so strongly about John for as long as he had, something had to be done. It wasn't as if they had a normal relationship to begin with, either. It had always felt like something more, and now it had the possibility or being more. Sherlock could hardly wait. If only he could ask the question. He glanced up and watched as John flipped a page in his book. He chewed gently on his bottom lip in thought and suddenly Sherlock felt ready.

"Have you ever thought about it? For yourself?" He blurted. Sherlock had expected John's head to snap up in shock, whatever his eventual response may be. However, John proved him wrong, just as he often did. What John did do, was continue reading, the only indication that he heard Sherlock was the slow grin spreading across his face. He gave a light shrug.

"I guess, if the right person asked" he answered. Sherlock felt his brain momentarily short circuit. His heart beat furiously.

"What if I asked?" He piped.

"Are you asking?" John replied, finally looking up, locking eyes across the table.

"Yes"

"Then yes" There was dead silence for a moment and Sherlock could barely catch his breath. John was smiling softly at him. He felt like his heart would explode at any moment. He opened his mouth to speak when Lestrade burst into the library.

"Cap! You gotta help! Two guys are fighting" he shouted, ignoring the scowling librarian. John looked to Sherlock helplessly. Sherlock just smiled and shook his head.

"Go on, we'll talk later" he said. John gave an apologetic smile and followed Lestrade out. As soon as they were safely out of sight, Sherlock released a long breath.

 

\---

 

Sherlock woke late that night as John attempted to slip into the bed without waking him. Feeling caught, John apologized.

"Sorry, didn't want to wake you, or be out this long, but here we are" he whispered. Sherlock nodded sleepily, but kept his eyes open and fixed on John. With their conversation in the library still fixed in the forefront of his mind, he wasn't sure how to proceed. A kiss would come, he was sure. The only question was when? Did John expect that sort of thing? Sherlock even wanted to do it, but he was anxious. Through the darkness John noticed the look on Sherlock's face.

"What's wrong?" He quickly came to a wrong conclusion.

"Are you rethinking everything?" He sputtered. Concern was etched into the still shallow lines of his young face and Sherlock shook his head.

"No, just- I don't think I want to kiss you right now- eventually, yes, but not right now" he clarified. John sagged in relief, then smiled.

"Oh good, you had me scared" he grinned. He fluffed his pillow as a confused Sherlock worked through his answer.

"You're not angry?" He asked slowly. John snorted.

"'Course not. I don't want to do anything you don't want do. It's just not on to force people into things like that" He lay back in the bed. Sherlock smiled to himself and shuffled closer to John, pressing his face into his chest. John wrapped his arm around Sherlock and let out air from his nose, settling down. Sherlock let his fingers dance distractedly over John's chest.

"Thank you" he whispered.

 

\---

 

John had been laughing when Sherlock kissed him for the first time. The laugh was full bodied, which made the initial contact awkward, causing him to miss and connect at a weird angle, but as soon as John realized what was happening, he stopped and put himself into the kiss fully. They melted into each other. Sherlock let John take control, as he tended to have some sort of idea about this sort of thing, whereas Sherlock generally had none. Slowly, John pushed Sherlock down on the bed. And they separated but remained in each others personal space.

"Alright, Captain?" Sherlock breathed. John laughed.

 

\---

 

Chaib found John as he was walking back to his room. The day had been pleasant and he was in a good mood.

"Cap! Did you hear what happened in Battle School?" Chaib asked gripping John's shoulder. John frowned and shook his head.

"The commander of Dragon army killed the commander of Salamander army! Apparently, it was self defense but no one is sure" he rambled. John blanched. How could the teachers let something like this happen? The memory of Sherlock explaining what the school was looking for flashed to the front of his brain with alarming speed. Would teachers really let a student die if it fit their purposes? He flattened his lips into a straight line. It's likely that they would. He thanked Chaib for the information and quickened his pace. Sherlock would love this.

 

\---

 

The mess hall was oddly silent. There was chatter, but it was all kept at low volumes. He was about to ask Sherlock about it but as he sat down, he noticed a small knot of kids a table over. He frowned. The schedule shouldn't have given them new students for at least another month. The strangest thing was that they all clearly looked too young. John sat down across from Sherlock whose grin was creeping across his face.

"Do you know who they are, John?" He asked in a low whisper. John shook his head. Sherlock's grin widened.

"They are the beginning of the end. Whether or not they know it, they will be the last ones to fight buggers" The dead kid floated in front of John's eyes.

"Is it one of them? Who killed the kid, I mean" he asked. Sherlock shook his head.

"No, but it's possible that any of them were there for it. I guarantee they all know who it is" John risked a glance at them. None of them spoke or even looked up from their food trays. It was obvious that they were aware of the entire hall's eye fixed on them. The eleven of them took up only a short end of the table, but they huddled closer together than other students would have. There was only one girl and next to her was a boy who looked only seven years old.

"This is the group that's supposed to 'save the world'? They don't even look like they can kick a bigger in the knee, forget killing one" he muttered. Rather than replying, Sherlock just continued to grin. John sat back and scrutinized him.

"What are you so smiley about anyway?" He asked. Leaning forward, Sherlock's grin slipped to a more sincere smile.

"I've been thinking about the future. I don't want to do all this forever. I want to solve puzzles, do things I've never done before. I can only calculate a correct atmosphere entry trajectory so many times before I snap" he whispered. 

"The tiny ones are on a fast track. This is a pitt stop for them. That means this will all be over very soon. I'm excited" he explained with a shrug. John didn't know how to take the new information. The two of them didn't talk about what was next. It just didn't come up. That his best friend had put any thought into it surprised him. Sherlock barely thought about the end of the week, much less the end of an era of human history. John gave a slow nod.

"Alright, well give me a little bit of warning when all this is supposed to happen"

 

\---

 

It was six months later when Sherlock's prediction came true. John was home on his last leave. He rolled out of bed one morning to find his entire family glued to the news. He was about to ask what happened, but he decided to just listen.

"-Graff claims that the fleet, led by Wiggin, fired previously classified weapons at the Formic home planet. These are some images projected by the surviving fleet ships" The anchor paused as pictures of a burning planet and drifting half destroyed ships floated through space. John thought about the new kids at tactical school. The anchor continued.

"The fleet estimates a total of three billion Formics were killed-" John tuned it out. Those kids were too young to have orchestrated the deaths of three billion living things. Hell, he was too young for that. He turned his attention back to the screen just in time to see the real master flash up. 

Ender Wiggin was only eleven years old. The picture must have been from a security clearance, because he was looking dead at the camera with no emotion. His face had lost nearly all it's baby fat and was beginning to elongate, a sign of growing up. His hair was short and dark with piercing blue eyes. And he looked so very tired. John sighed. At least Sherlock would be happy. If at the expense of this kid's sanity.

 

\---

 

Sherlock and John were released from the IF two months later. Because of the end of the buggers and essays by someone called Demosthenes the entire system was coming down. It was fine though, the two of them didn't mind. They were lounging quietly in John's bed, entangled, when Sherlock came across the bulletin on the nets.

"'Open call for any able bodied adventurers willing to start a new life colonizing planets'" he read aloud. He turned to John, his eyes shining. He'd never said anything specifically about planet colonization, but John had caught on after a while. 

It was the only thing really available to them now. The beginnings of war were brewing all over the world and if they wanted to stay out of it, they had to get out. It wasn't as if they had any real tethers to earth either. They grew up without their families. Nobody knew them but each other. John smiled softly and buried his nose in Sherlock's neck.

"If it's what you really want"

 

\---

 

They were guided onto the ship with the rest of the colonists. Sherlock muttered darkly the entire walk about how dumb some of the crew members were. John had to keep reminding him that not everyone went to battle school. They found a seat in the auditorium section of the ship and waited. Sherlock whispered soft deductions about the other passengers into John's ear, making him giggle. The moment was interrupted.

"Excuse me, are you Captain Watson and Sherlock Holmes?" A voice asked behind them. To their immense shock, Ender Wiggin stood in front of them, a politely curious look on his face. Sherlock recovered first.

"Indeed we are. And you are Ender Wiggin" His voice was calculated and his interest piqued. Ender nodded.

"I just wanted you to know that during my time in battle school, your tactics were unbelievably innovative. You proved to be an inspiration. There's no one I would want here more than you two" he said. His voice was calm and soothing. John wondered if he ever got angry and shouted. 

He was about to tell him about the honor in meeting him when he remembered Chaib running up to him to tell him about the dead battle school student. The news had later reported that Ender did it. Suddenly he didn't know what to say. He forced the most sincere smile possible and nodded. Ender took this as the end of the conversation and went to meet more passengers.

"I forgot he'd be here" he mumbled. Sherlock threw his arm around John's shoulders.

"It's alright. You've got two years to warm up to him" he chuckled. John groaned and rolled his head back.

"It's not that I don't like him, I just pity him. There's no way he would have chosen this life if he'd gotten a say. He was so young" he sighed. Sherlock pressed his forehead against John's temple.

"Now he's like us, he's free" he whispered. John hummed in approval and relaxed. Sherlock's fingers began absentmindedly massaging the back of John's neck. John hummed again.

"Keep doing that" he murmured. Sherlock smiled.

"Yes captain"


End file.
